


Failure Makes the Murderer

by Michi_Pichi



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Backstory, Child Abuse, Gen, Headcanon, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-11-07 06:15:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11053014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michi_Pichi/pseuds/Michi_Pichi
Summary: Akechi Goro lays dying in a hospital bed while Sae is left trying to piece together the series of failures that led to a series of murders in a world the court would never understand. She wanted to make sure her last case had justice served.





	1. Chapter 1

                  “Niijima-san. I understand you need to question him for your case, but he’s in no condition.”

                  Sae nodded, setting her briefcase on the desk and rummaging through for a set of paperwork. “I’m working on a warrant. Akechi-san is a person of interest regarding Masayoshi Shidou.”

                  The doctor didn’t look but gave a sad smile, “I understand, but he’s weak. It’s been touch and go since coming out of his last surgery.”

                  “Conscious?”

                  “There are a few lucid moments here and there,” the doctor explained. “We’re keeping him comfortable under partial sedation.”

                 “Is there any chance to wean him and bring the patient around? I don’t need long, but need to confirm some details.”

                  The doctor shook his head, “You need to realize that he’s dying.”

                  This gave a moment of pause. “I see. How long?”

                  “Can be anywhere from hours to a few days. There’s some minimal liver function, but the organ's not salvageable. Even if we could find a donor at this point,  the infection’s barely responding to broad spectrum antibiotics and Akechi-san is already on the verge of multi-system failure. It’s a miracle he’s made it this long to be quite honest.”

                  Indeed. The reports hadn’t made sense. An unidentified body outside the Diet was conspicuous in itself. With bullet wounds and half-disemboweled it looked like a Yakuza hit, except they wouldn’t have left someone out in the open, not even to send a message. The anonymous body hadn’t been her case and it was left to colleagues. They had Kaneshiro and his associates in custody. They could visit the barely legal parlors and bars in Shinjuku for leads. Kobayashi even went as far as to try to drag any leads out of a model kit shop with rumored mob ties. There was nothing tying it into the Phantom Thieves or her final prosecution of Masayoshi Shidou.

                  The disappearance of Goro Akechi should have triggered something as a curious coincidence. It had not until she received the call from the hospital.

                  Instead she spent the couple weeks after the confession and arrest of Masayoshi Shidou chasing the shadows of an accomplice. Shidou himself maintained that he only had suspicion of their relationship and had seen the kid as little more than a throwaway pawn. It seemed unfathomable except for a dead end paper trail. In fact, all that existed of Goro Akechi’s life was a series of starts and stops. No family registry, just a series of intake and discharge papers from institutions and foster homes, many left half complete.

                   “He’s as much a victim as anyone,” Kurusu stated in their first discussion after being booked into the juvenile prison. “In every way possible society failed him. We couldn’t save him. He was far too gone for that, but the tragedy is that those failures died with him.”

                  That was close to true. Evidence procured from his apartment was fruitful in regards to his cases. As part of his detective ambitions, Akechi proved meticulous in detailing each case, everything from the statutes to pieces of evidence to potential motives. Sae herself was familiar with this trait through their collaboration, even going so far as to borrow his journals on several occasions.

                  Her coming to him for such trivial tasks meant a lot to him. Something he jotted down in the margins as part of a case where a semi driver plowed into oncoming traffic and a crowd in Ikebukuro. At the time she thought more cute than useful. A kid playing a grownup. Such contradictions wouldn’t have mattered up until a couple months ago and yet now she had to offer something to the courts that could be admissible. That meant understanding the contradictions she had waved off as nothing more than personality quirks.

                  “Do you think he’s capable of collaborating a few details at least?”

                   “You do realize you’re asking to interrogate a dying child.”

                  Sae’s expression softened as the doctor become more bristled. She was trying to catch herself in moments where she went too hard. “Does he know?”

                  “Yes. To a degree. He knows the odds. He didn’t identify himself by name until we gave him a reason for asking for next of kin.”

                  Poor kid. At the age of twenty Sae had to face her father’s death and even authorize the hospital to take her father off life support. It was while picking up Makoto from her middle school to that she could feel her heart grow cold before it hardened over. She hadn't been old enough to face that. Goro Akechi wasn’t even that. He was the same age as her little sister. 

                  “Perhaps then I should visit as a colleague in this case.”

                  She could not blame the doctor for his skepticism.

                  “I’m not going to push him into anything he wishes to withhold. Perhaps all this will just help in giving him closure.”

                  The doctor closed the records binder with Akechi’s name before pushing up the rim of his thick rimmed glasses. “He’s in room 1431. I can’t actually stop you with your warrant. Just be mindful."

                  Sae nodded. Walking through the ward, she looked at the numbers in front of each glass paned room. Those where the curtains were open had weeping family at bedside of mostly elderly patients on a host of machines. The faint sounds of weeping his almost as strong as the scent of antiseptic. And then she reached her destination. A sign at the door implored for masks and gloves to be used in the room, a task she followed as she entered and saw the items on a counter next to a sink.

                 The sound of his breaths were wet and heavy, punctuated by the occasional wheeze or cough. As she approached, she could see the frailty under the maze of tubes and wires. Jaundice had already settled in, along with a degree of mottling that was particularly prevalent in his lightly sunken cheeks and in the puckered scars of his right hand. His eyes were closed.

                 “Akechi-san. Can you hear me?” Sae said, the tone of her voice firm despite being little more than a whisper. His eyelids shifted and fluttered, but did not open.

                 Sae put a gloved hand over his shoulder. She kept the pressure light, waiting to ensure there wasn’t any pain. She shook, ever so careful. “It’s Niijima. I need you awake.”

                 The reaction was even groggier than Kurosu during interrogation. Although in this case it looked to be a blessing. Getting him to turn his head toward her voice was not too complicated, but his eyes fell as soon as they could open and when his lips parted it was to let out a groan.

                  “Listen, I know your condition. I’m not here to badger you, but need your help filling in some details if you’re up for it.”

                 He blinked slowly and mumbled into the mask over his face.

                 Sae leaned in, unable to make out the words, “I can’t hear you.”

                 “Apartment,’ Akechi barked as loud as he could manage, “my journals.”

                 Just those words alone left the boy panting. Sae reached over to brush a fringe of sweat matted hair out of his eyes. She couldn’t help recoiling at the clamminess of his forehead. “I have them. I should thank you for being so meticulous.”

                 “You called it chicken scratch,” he said with just a bit more strength. “Can I die in peace now?”

                 Sae cut to the point. “Shidou’s confession will get him a conviction, but to ensure a long prison term I need to confirm details on your involvement. I need to know what led up this. Your past leading up to what transpired in that world.”

                  Akechi’s eyes closed. Had she lost him?

                  With a grunt his hand traveled over the covers to his abdomen. “It hurts.”

                  “Should I get a doctor?” Sae asked. Watching as his face contorted in pain, she found herself rubbing her temple, “the doctor is right. You’re in no shape for any of this.”

                  Akechi’s fingers clenched and released several times, his breath hitching several times before it evened out, “Don’t. Don’t want to sleep.”

                  Sae rose and returned to the sink. Taking a clean washcloth from a small pile, she wet it and returned to the bedside. With gentle strokes she wiped his face. As though by instinct he leaned into her.

                  “He really confessed?” Akechi asked.

                  Sae nodded and took out her phone, “I can show you the conference video if you wanted to see for yourself.”

                  There was no response from the boy, but his eyes stayed with her as she found the video and played it, setting her phone against the bed rail so he can see. His face was slack at first the sight of Shidou at the podium bringing out the first bit of emotion in the form of pursed lips. As it went on, his eyes slid in and out of focus. Several times he had to blink off whatever medication or exhaustion lingered in his system, yet there was a determination in that weak body.

                  “They did it,” he breathed as Shidou broke down. Tears of his own pooled in the corner of his eyes before they fell down. “Kurusu-kun did it.”

                  As the stream end, Sae took her phone back, not saying anything, but wordlessly offering the small towel to dab at his eyes.

                  “It’s fitting,” Akechi finally said, “that we both go down. As long as he rots.”

                  She had him. “Then help me fill the gaps.”

                  Akechi nodded, “I will. But where’s Kurusu? He should hear.”

                  Sae shook her head. She was already pulling every string possible to build a defense and get him out. She had favors out with a couple professional acquaintances from law school to avoid additional abuses. It was the least she could do as she couldn’t keep him out of solitary confinement. She was at the limit of her good graces and favors. “I can’t do that. But I can relay any message.”

                  At first it seemed like he had shut up into his own world, eyes closed.

                  “Akechi-san?”

                  “Niijima-san?” he sounded like a child, his voice high and pitiful, “I’m tired.”

                  His voice was breaking and his heart rate was rising. Sae sat in quiet patience as her former colleague alternated between fits of pain and blankness. When a nurse approached with another dose of medicine, she watched the empty stare overtake Akechi as his senses appeared to fade. She waited long after, looking for a hint of recognition to come back in his eyes as the sun outside the window set early in the winter sky.  
                  Realizing the futility, she stood to leave when a hand reached out, blind. “Akechi-san?”

                  His eyes opened in response, barely more than glassy slivers. “Hurry up,” he said as though they had been speaking minutes ago instead of nearly three hours.

                  “This won’t do,” Sae admitted. A few months earlier she would have pushed until someone gave whatever drug would keep the suspect roused. If if made the lips looser all the better. It wasn’t as though Kurusu was the first case she heard to go through such treatment to get a case.

                  Perhaps it was in the aftermath of that interrogation her heart softened. Perhaps it came because she had most of the sordid details and asking an eighteen-year-old to relive every moment society failed him in his final hours was a cruelty even she could not withstand.

                  “Please…” Akechi said, “do it.”

                  Even in his pathetic state, Akechi had a determination in his face, weaker than when he saw the confession video, but present. Sae considered for a few moments, knowing she only had so much time. Setting out a recorder, she turned it on.

                  “I’ll tell you what I have. Just nod yes or no if those details are true. Add only what you must. Do you understand.”

                  Akechi gave a small nod.

                  “Let us begin,” Sae said. She knew where this story began and what the end would bring. Her last prosecution. His last case.

                 “According to Shidou he had an affair with Sachiko Akechi, your mother. This appears to be collaborated in journals obtained from your apartment and records with social services.”


	2. Chapter 2

                   “According to Shidou he had an affair with Sachiko Akechi, your mother. This appears to be collaborated in journals obtained from your apartment and records with social services.”

                  Akechi’s body tensed at the mention of his mother’s name.

                  For Sae’s part, she starting to question if this like of questioning wasn’t a mistake. Sachiko Akechi was a passive victim at best. One who had been dead since 2003. “I’m sorry. This has to be a hard topic.”

                  He shook his head, “just go on.” The tone was distant. Perhaps it was the drugs, but the boy wasn’t even looking at her but the space past her, through the windows out to the last embers of dusk along the Tokyo skyline.

                  “Shidou said he found out that she was pregnant around the New Year in 1998. He took a job in Kyoto and left without telling her. So obviously he wasn’t a part of your childhood at this. Does this sound correct?”

                  A nod, “she regretted not aborting me.”

                  Had there been anger, or tears Sae wouldn’t have thought any less of the boy. While working alongside her as an apprentice of sorts, the way he deflected emotions into that television personality mask was off-putting. With that façade removed, she finally understood what it was that hadn’t clicked, because underneath was emptiness. She couldn’t peg her finger on it until now.

                  As a woman she wanted to refute such claims. It wasn’t unheard of and almost common in interacting with children who grew up in state facilities. Even knowing that, she would have pressed for the opposite if the file on Sachiko Akechi wasn’t on her desk with everything from the psychiatric evaluation shortly after giving birth to the coroner’s report.

                  “The intake documents for you at the time of her death mentioned malnourishment and the state of your living environment. Was she abusive, or simply neglectful?”

                  This was a question that should have been included. Some kind of interview, even if he was barely five and any answers would be limited it was something that should have been part of the file.

                  Yet he shook his head no at the accusations.

                  “Then what?”

                  “We were poor. Ostracized. She eventually broke.”

 ~~~~~

                  “Mom. I’m hungry. Are you making dinner today?”

                  Life in the Akechi household was never easy. The meager government welfare covered a single room apartment in Katsushika, the furthest reach of Tokyo before ending up in Chiba. After the bills were paid, there wasn’t much left for anything else.

                  “I cooked last night, Goro.”

                  The three-year-old shook his head. “Nope. You said today.”

                  Sachiko Akechi rarely could bring herself to rise from her futon in the corner of the room. She’d finished a degree at Keio University with respectable grades and every opportunity to get a job at a reputable company where she would be able to find a suitable husband. Masayoshi was someone who was going somewhere and had reassured her that it was just a matter of saving up for a wedding.

                  Fumbling around her, she digs into her purse and a couple pants pockets, collecting loose change into her hand she extends it out to her son. “Here. Go to the 100 yen store and get a snack.”

                  For all her promise, her aspirations were those of being a simple housewife. The pregnancy was unexpected, but a good omen. She could be a mother who was at the arm of Masayoshi as he worked his way up the political ladder. Their little apartment was decorated with their photos. Her hair and makeup done to accentuate her well proportioned features.

                  She didn’t tell him about the pregnancy for several months, instead dropping marriage hints his way with increasing frequency.

                  The framed picture by her futon was from a few days before he left for Kyoto. By New Year it was impossible to hide the growth of her abdomen and every outfit she had emphasized the tiny load she carried.

                  “Mom? Are you sick again?”

                  Goro didn’t know anything else. There were many days she languished on her bed while dishes piled up and the garbage missed the pickup days. Once he was able to work the lock, he learned the layout of the streets. He was only allowed to go to the 100 yen shop on most days, but every so often, when he was able to find enough loose change on the street, he would bring whatever he had in one of his mother’s old peeling wallets to the meat market and plop it down on the counter for whatever he could afford.

                  “That poor kid,” a woman gossiped with a friend on the stoop of her own small, tidy home, “having to take care of that selfish woman.”

                  “Is he always dressed like that?”

Nothing he owned was new. Not even pleasantly used. The only thing that matched were the grass strains on his pants. Until a hole became indecent, Akechi would throw it into the bathtub with all the other laundry and lay it out on the open windowsill. Nobody told him you needed to scrub them.

                  “Shouldn’t someone report it?” the friend asked.

                  “I mind my own business,” the woman replied, not caring that the toddler was looking directly at her with his mop of half tangled hair. “Besides, can you imagine the kind of kid to come from that house.”

                  It was a mantra around their neighborhood. Even if there was something wrong with the mother, there must be something wrong with the child to explain why the father picked up and left.

                  Goro had to hop in front to the censors to trigger the automatic doors. Walking in the cool air was a relief from what was turning into a very early summer. The clerk paid no mind as the small child explored the lower levels of shelves. Waking past the stationary and other odds and ends, he reached a small area with random snacks and produce. Part of him wanted something sweet, but if his mother wasn’t cooking, it needed to be filling enough to last until she was feeling better. Settling on some bread, he tottered up to the counter. She had forgotten to give him the five yen for tax, leaving the child embarrassed as he fumbled for his own coin.

                  The clerk, a middle ages woman, took the change, but slipped a small book of stickers to Goro.

                  Walking back, he tore into the white, mostly tasteless treat. His stomach had been churning. His mother would want quiet and so, instead of heading directly back to his apartment, took the small side street that led to the playground.

                  Several other children his age ran about, climbing the equipment as their mothers looked on. His mother could come out on her best days and sit in the shade away from the other mothers. That was some months ago.

                  “It’s that dirty kid again.” Was the comments from a little girl to ran up to him after coming down a slide.

                  Goro did his best to wipe his hands on his pants, extending his hand out. “I’m Goro.”

                  The girl stepped back and played with the hem of her skirt, glancing back at her approaching mother. “Come on, I don’t want you getting lice.”

                  None of the parents encouraged their children to interact with the poorly dressed boy, carefully guiding them away from whatever he approached. After the jungle gym cleared, Goro, head drooping, took his bread to a swing where he could eat away from the commentary and avoid the distrustful glares.

~~~~~ 

                  “Please tell me this is an exaggeration.”

                  Akechi’s shoulders could barely manage the shrug.

                  Sae scoffed in disgust. She knew what being born out of wedlock meant under the best of circumstances. She prosecuted many young men whose family registry was no more than them and a mother. Even without Sachiko Akechi’s mental illness, the poverty and stigma were nearly overwhelming.

                  The nurse was back, this time with a cart and accomplice. They seemed surprised at Sae’s presence. “I’m sorry, but visiting hours are over.”

                  Checking her phone she realized that it was past 8pm. It hadn’t felt like they had covered much, but not unexpected given the need to cater to Akechi’s pace. Even under the medication and the slowly declining vitals the kid was doing an admirable job, but much like with her last interrogation, sentences drifted off into nothing, the words that came out slurred to minimal comprehension.

                  “My apologies, I am here on police business.”

                  The nurses nodded, “well, can you step outside for a few minutes?”

                  A reasonable request. Akechi was nearing his limit. His words were deteriorating in number and comprehension. Even when she filled in from her own documents, the little tidbits were slow to register.

                  “I’ll wait outside.”

                  As she collected her recorder though a hand clutched her own. “please.. don’t go.”

                  The nurse interjected, “Akechi-kun, we need to change the drainage catheters and all he dressings.”

                  “Stay… Niijima-san.”

                  Niijima looked at the nurse, who was swapping out bags of fluids from the pole. “It’s up to you if you want an adult present. Also, your doctor wants to try a new antibiotic and blood tests for your liver.”

                  Akechi nodded.

                  This was quickly exceeding the parameters of what would be her job. She was a lawyer trying to fill in her case. She was here for information, not to be an attendant of a surrogate for a parent. She had a plea agreement prepared and a plan to arrest the kid six hours ago as an accessory to Shidou’s crimes.

                  Yet as the old dressings were snipped away, the scent of decay and disease was too acute. The way the boy held back whimpers at the clearing of pus from still open wounds. She kept her eyes focused on his face to avoid voyeurism but couldn’t help seeing a flash of his ruined abdomen as they shifted his weight to reach other areas.

                  “Niijima-san. Go on. Please.”

                  She was starting to understand Kurusu’s comment. Staying hadn’t been anybody’s job.

                  “As you wish. I suppose at this point we need to discuss what triggered the events of June 2nd, 2003.”

                  “As I said earlier. Mom broke.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

                  “As you wish. I suppose at this point we need to discuss what triggered the events of June 2nd, 2003.”

                  “As I said earlier. Mom broke.”

                  Sae brought her hand to her temple. She felt as though those nurses were pulling her own blood into each of those containers. “I need to understand the circumstances in more detail.”

“Entirely irrelevant. You have the police report. Sent me out for an errand mid afternoon and hung herself. No foul play.”  
                  The nurse tending to Akechi’s lower half took a sample from a collection bin at the foot of the bed and alerted the other. “The doctor is going to want to look at the kidneys.”

                  “One more thing to go wrong,” Akechi said with words that came out with a dejected weight. Lying in bed the tears gathered in the corner of the teenager’s eyes as one more vial was extracted and placed with the others.

                  Sae did have the file in front of her. At the time it was treated as an open and shut suicide case given there was nothing unusual about the circumstances. Sachiko Akechi was a walking checklist of common criteria. Unwed mother? Check. Disowned by family? Check. Mental Illness? Absolutely.

                  Underneath the crushing poverty and misfortune there were other details that had been glossed over. No need to spend the man hours to understand a basic suicide. “I realize this has to be difficult. But there are multiple records in the call history that tied to Shido’s at that time. This includes several made in the days leading up to the suicide. The last being at 14:27 the day she died.”

                  When Akechi was turned again to reapply gauze and wrapping there was a gasp. Sae wasn’t sure if from what she said or pain. But several tears had nowhere to go but down, trickling past cheekbones that protruded bit too much from weight loss and into the starched sheets.  His eyes were wide but stared ahead, as though looking far away.

The more talkative nurse toward the head of the bed shot a dirty look. But nothing was said. “Akechi-kun?,” she finally asked, “are you okay? Can you hear me?”

Nothing.

The other nurse looked up after adding tape to a wrapping, “Is it the same as around Christmas?”

“Vitals are… well they’re steady.”

Akechi blinked then. Once. Twice. “She never did get over him, did she?”  
  
~~~

In her mind, Masayoshi would come back for her. She somehow almost always managed to find the new phone number when it changed. He never picked up but she would leave messages.

“Masa… I’ve been thinking we could go to Ueno park like we used to. Let me know when you’re free.”

Others were more pleading. She’d invent some crisis that she would need help over. Not that they weren’t in a perilous situation with their old dirty apartment that didn’t keep the heat in or refrigerator that would get turned off when there wasn’t anything to keep.

The worst were those that involved bargaining. “Listen, if it’s about Goro there are orphanages.”

The sound on their TV was tinny and rang with static, yet Goro would turn the volume up on his sentai show he heard her mention his name over the phone. He’d try to focus on the heroic actions of the leader in red. In his mind, Masa looked a lot like one of those ugly monsters.

“I realize it was a mistake to have him. I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”

Goro couldn’t help shaking in anger when she hung up after that one and collapsed back into her unmade futon sobbing loud. It was already late May and she hadn’t left the house in a month. “Turn that stupid shit off,” she said.

He obeyed but remained staring at the screen. “Mom… do you hate me?”

His mother didn’t answer, only sobbing louder. Even though he wanted to cry himself, to be anywhere else, Goro crawled next to her and curled his arms around her. “Don’t hate me Mom.”

“I don’t,” she finally said through wet sniffles.

“You want me gone.”

She didn’t counter it, or offer any warm gestures. No pats to the head or kind smiles like he saw the moms on television give their little boys or girls. “If I’m good do you think I could be on TV. Then you won’t be so sad.”

“Goro, you don’t have any idea. Nobody wants people like us.”

“Do you want me?” Goro asked, “Mom? Do you love me?”

She hummed in quiet contemplation.

They slept cradled into one another that night.

The next day though, Goro awoke to an empty futon. There was no noise from their small bathroom.  For the first time in some time she had managed to go outside. Goro got up and went to the small calendar on an end table and xed out one more day. June 1st.

Turning on the television, he changed the channel. A dull talk show came on with adults chatting, gaudy words littering the screen. He mouthed along the hiragana characters the best he could although anything with kanji was befuddling. He wished he could ask his mother what some of the words were on as they discussed a major crime.

His mother emerged looking healthier than she had in some time. Her hair was well brushed and tied into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. Her clothing, while frayed and worn to the end of their lives, were well put together. The blue hues complimented her pale skin and dark brown hair nicely.

She also came with a couple small bags.    

“Turn on the refrigerator,” she said as she entered. Even her expression was lifted rom one of despair. Goro scrambled to obey.

“I got us a couple things for dinner tomorrow. I almost forgot it was your birthday.”

“I’m….” he counted on his fingers, ‘4 now, right?”

“Yep and tomorrow will be 5. I forgot how big you’re getting.”

“can we go to the park together?”

She paused, “how about today?”

She nodded.

Excited, Goro picked out a t-shirt that looked presentable except for a small soy sauce stain at the hem and a pair of clean pants. As they walked the landlord could be heard, her heels clanging against the metal stairs. “Oy, Akechi. You owe me rent again. You know it comes every month, right?”

Normally this would be enough to send his mother in tears, yet this new version of his mother help composure. “I’m going to the bank later. Is it okay to pay tomorrow?”

“You know, having a kid like this ain’t right. You’d be able to pay with one less mouth.”

His mother bowed, “my apologies Yamada-san. Tomorrow.”

Goro tugged at his mother’s hand, “come on, let’s go already.”

The walk was uneventful. A few of the more knowing, nosy neighbors shot looks, but nobody said much. Even if they ended up sitting at the far end of the park, away from the other children and their parents, who despite this recent upturn looked different from them. She was there to watch as he ran about.

It was a good day. Goro could imagine, if they had enough money for nicer clothes, that they’d look no different than the families on the shows. Nobody would be able to peg them as weird or undesirable.

That night passed by normal until she made one more phone call.

“Hi Masa?  How are you? I was wondering if you could come by tomorrow? It’s Goro-kun’s birthday. I’m making hot pot. Just let me know. I’ll have a plate ready.”

“I don’t want him here.”

Not that there was a chance of it happening.

The next day started on the same note as the day proper, with his mother acting happy and normal. Even going so far as to tidy up parts of their apartment and clearing off the table.

“Goro-kun?”

He turned away from his show.

She had a small box in her hands, “here you go. Happy birthday.”

It was an unexpected gesture. Birthdays were never a big deal in the house for either of them. He had seen on television though how it was common to get presents.

It wasn’t wrapped, but Goro tore into the plain cardboard box to see a toy laser gun. The light scratches on the painted plastic made it clear that it wasn’t new, but it was nicer than just about anything else he owned. “Cool.”

“I wish I could do more.”

The boy went to his mom and wrapped his tiny arms around her leg. “Thank you so much.”

“Now, I forgot to get daikon at the store yesterday. Go to the vegetable store and get some. You know where it is right?”

Goro nodded.

She handed him a thousand-yen note. “Okay. Once you’re back we’ll cook dinner. I’m going to clean up.” She bent down and gave him a hug tighter than any other she had offered.

Taking his new toy with him, Goro walked with a slight swagger, pointing the blue sphere nib at a stray cat. “Stop, evil doer!” before it scampered off.

The vegetable market was a little further than his normal errands and one they seldom could afford. He felt elated having more money on him than he had seen in his life and entering the small market. The vegetables were on a bin slightly above his head and the daikon large enough to be cumbersome as he pulled one only to trigger several other falling.

“Oh, careful. Don’t damage the rest,” the old shopkeeper said, her own stature hunched over and tiny. “How many did you need dear?”

“One,” Akechi chirped as he tried to help push the giant radishes back up.

The woman nodded, “just you and your mom?”

Akechi nodded again.

The old woman looked around, picking one of the smaller specimens and handing it to the child. “Here you go.”

“How much?”

The woman pointed to the scale near the front of the counter, “put it up there and we’ll see.”

The dial moved. “Looks like it’ll be about 160 yen.”

Goro thrust the bill toward her and, when he received change, put every coin back in his wallet. As he was about he leave he heard the lady call. “I think you left your toy, dear.”

His cheeks reddened at having almost lost his brand new toy and he was too sheepish to face the old woman as he grabbed it and darted back into the side street and started making his way home.

He opened to his mother hanging from the bathroom door, her face a putrid tone of blue. Her hand dangled lifeless at her side.

For a moment all he could do was look in shock. He mouthed the word ‘mom’ but he couldn’t speak.

Goro screamed. Wailed at the top of his lungs. When he was out of breath he gasped and continued on again and again for who knew how long.

There were the sounds of heels on steel again. “Come on, your boy needs to learn some consideration already…” the landlady’s voice trailed off as she could see from the open door what the commotion was about.

Akechi wailed and cried until he fell to his knees. The landlady had a cell phone and could be heard calling for the police and ambulance. Hearing the sirens in the background, the boy pulled himself to his knees and darted off, running blind away from the scene.

“Kid…. What the?”

Goro did not care. He ran as fast as his skinny legs could take him, not stopping at any of the shops or the park that he knew. He flew past them and kept going even past the train station, barely noticing the car that had to slam his brakes to miss the child in the road.

He stopped only when his lungs ached and his feet scorched with the pain of the exercise. Finding a small, abandoned shrine he sat and cried for hours with a daikon and toy laser in his hands. He cried until the night went dead and someone called in a lost child to the police.

“Ah, you’re the kid whose mother…” the officer said, not wanting to finish the thought.

The ride to the police station was in awkward silence and even with the officers attempting to be as kind as possible, could say little to the child other than to offer a fast food burger for his too skinny frame and an extra blanket.

“Child services are going to pick him up in the morning.”

~~~

“So you don’t know what that last call to Shido was concerning.”

It was just the two of them again and the hiss and beeps of machines. Akechi made an attempt to bury his head into the thin pillow, the effort of even turning his own head and shoulders a strain. “She asked him to take me in. Not that it mattered.”

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had to witness that.”

Sae wrote notations in the margins of the report. She bit her bottom lip in an effort to maintain her own composure.

“Obviously it was just wishful thinking.”

Sae looked at the time. Past ten. She doubted Akechi was in any place to go much further. “I believe we will have to call it a night. I’ll be back tomorrow to get more if you’re up for it.”

Aketchi gave a limp wristed wave, “I’ll try not to die overnight.” The words would have been a barb if he wasn’t so tired, and if his eyes weren’t flickering with just a touch of hope.

“Do you want me to tell Makoto. If they wanted to see you.”

“No,” Akechi said, “I don’t need pity.”

“Then why me?”

“You’re in a position to do something.”


	5. Chapter 5

                  Sae was halfway down the hallway when she saw the doctor pass by her, the bags under his eyes a light purple.

                  “Hold on,” he asked, “you know Akechi-san, correct?”

                  Sae nodded.

                  He motioned to the medical charts in his hands. “Could you come in with me?”

                  A piece of her wanted to reject it. That she was here as part of an investigation. She wasn’t family and in fact had a little sister who was likely coming back from cram school.

                  “I realize it’s a bit of an imposition,” the doctor said, “but this is such an a typical case. Any familiar face can only help.”

                  It was late for most doctors to still be in the hospital. They had an army of nurses to handle most of the care and if he had simply signed off on medication orders and requests for tests it would have been adequate for his job. Yet this doctor had the wary slouch of someone who cared.

                  He doesn’t knock, but instead slides the door open and approaches the sink.

                  “Akechi-san?” the doctor asked, donning a facemask as he approached the bed. The boy didn’t stir. He took out his stethoscope and maneuvered around the open back of the gown, eyes on vital stats as he listened to breathing that even Sae could tell was more strained than at the beginning of their session.

                  He wrote in the chart before turning to the patient again. “Akechi-san?” he said with a bit of a lilt, “can you hear me? It’s Dr. Yamada.”

                  The boy’s eyes flickered for a moment before settling into vacant slivers. “I’m sorry about waking you. But some test results came back. We need to discuss a few things.”

                  A weak moan, “more bad news.” came a croaked response before shutting his eyes again.

                  “You must be tired of me doing this to you.” Gloved hands pressed into the lymph nodes of the boy’s neck with a tenderness Sae was acclimated to in a physician. The smile he wore was not of joviality but of empathy. “Your liver’s not working anymore. And your kidney as well.”

                  “Ah.”

                  Dr. Yamada’s hand reached to Goro’s shoulder. “We’re going to have to start you on dialysis. Just waiting on the machine.”

Sae’s lips pursed. A dampness was forming behind those closed eyes, creating a salty film along long eyelashes.

The doctor continued, “I’m also going to need to put a stent in your skull. Otherwise the pressure is going to build. And probably put another chest tube in your left lung.” He paused, “It’s going to have to be local anesthetic. It’s too dangerous to put you under after the last time.”

The light shaking of his body was enough to send the tears swelling on Goro’s eyelashes tumbling down sallow yellow cheeks. From a distance it almost looked like shivering. His Adam’s apple bobbed with unformed words before finally saying, “don’t? Please…”

Dr. Yamada tsked and shook his head, his face, still in his 30s, showing fine lines and creases around the eyes. “They’re denying the hospice request. With your age and that this is from physical injuries we’re supposed to keep up treatment.”

Sae’s heart dropped with the tiny noise that Goro made as it echoed in the oxygen mask. “This is almost torture.”

The doctor nodded, hand moving over to the abdomen, “You’re going to feel a bit of pressure.” It sounded like it hurt, “I’m sorry, just a bit more. Niijima-san’s right.”

“How’s your pain? The one good thing is your heart rate has settled down, so it seems the anxiety’s under control.”

 “How,” Goro gasped, “How long?”

“It depends. Between the infection from that last surgery and the organ failure there’s a lot that can go wrong. And honestly, it’s hard to tell given you’re one of the toughest kids I’ve ever met.”

Goro scoffed, “to what use? Just say I’m dying.”

 “I didn’t say it because it really seemed like you were going to pull through.”

A penlight went back to his eyes, “reaction’s sluggish. But you’re alert. You’re not having any weird sounds again? No hallucinations?”

“Hallucinations?” Sae asked.

Akechi  could barely shake his head no.

He looked over in Sae’s direction, “I’m amazed you’ve been this alert for Niijima-san. Three days ago I didn’t even have your name. Although how much of that was stubbornness?”

“I doesn’t matter. Nobody cares.”

 It was easy to miss in the office. Head buried in cases, an obligation to ensure her perfect conviction rate went unimpeded it had seemed natural that she had so little knowledge of anything surrounding Goro Akechi. He came in and pored through documents that held little real importance, whatever she deemed appropriate for a know it all kid. Her own assumption that he had to have had some important parents and an overinflated ego to explain his presence. That he knew better than to bring up his home life played well into her desire to avoid discussing matters beyond authorizing confessions.

All those times he had tried to cajole her into sushi dinners or to join him in what he called reconnaissance came across as nothing more than brownnosing. “Is there anyone you want contacted?”

It was a question hoping for an answer.

“I have nobody.”

Sae bent over the railing on the side of the bed opposite Dr. Yamada. “Are you sure? You might be surprised.”

“They won’t come.”

By the time they met, the kid was well on his roaring rampage as a hired assassin. Yet that group of kids, each of whom had experienced at least one of the myriad of ways society failed, felt remorse. Not forgiveness, but at the least twinges of understanding.

The black and white of half filled paperwork across a half dozen foster homes interspersed with stays in institutions provided a vivid picture. And yet it had nothing on the haunted look in his eyes reliving finding his mother’s body as some kind of cruel birthday prank.

“They’ll come, I know they will.”

There was an underlying need to do something right by this boy. With a paper trail a mile long, all it would have taken was for one happy ending to come up for those people to be alive.

Yamada spoke up, “Listen, I want you to be comfortable as possible. You don’t have to be alone. Let us help.”

Goro’s eyes drifted from the doctor to Sae’s. They blinked slow, seeming to close in exhaustion until a faint word came out through a pushed breath.

“Kurusu. Can he come?”

The request was both startling and entirely expected. It sent her stomach plummeting into a painful pit deep in her core.  From her own discussions with the leader of the Phantom Thieves, the boys shared an atypical, complicated relationship. There wasn’t a doubt.

But he was already too far gone, not yet asleep, but eyes far away and unfocused.

Dr. Yamada finished, offering a slight pat of the hand before standing to leave. As he removed the gloves and mask, he had a cautious smile on his face. “Can you reach this Kurusu?”

“His father is Masayoshi Shidou,” Sae said absently, “Akechi is the illegitimate kid the tabloids are going on about.

The non-sequitur puzzled the doctor.

“Kurusu’s the leader of the Phantom thieves. He’s in prison,” she said, voice hallow, “because he’s the only one who can put Shidou away.”

“Damn,” Yamada said, “so it can get more fucked than it is already.”

Reaching the elevator Sae hit the button, “There’re things in his past records that are suspect, but nobody followed up. If we can put everything in place it could be how Kurusu avoids sentencing.”

“Not in time.”

With a ding metal doors open. “I just want to make sure the right thing happens for once.”


End file.
